Chapter 43

CHAPTER 43

MARIGOLD

T hanksgiving had always been a holiday that held mixed emotions for me. Growing up, it was just my parents and me, sharing a small meal at a little table in our very humble kitchen. Mom always made it special, of course—homemade pumpkin pie, candles flickering, and good family time. Since I had moved to New York, most years I was unable to afford the trip back to Wyoming. I knew my father spent Thanksgiving with friends. I was so glad they welcomed him since I couldn't be there. I usually spent the day alone or accepted an invitation to someone's house that I didn't really know all that well.

My adult Thanksgivings had not been all that exciting or memorable. Tonight was different. This was a Thanksgiving like no other.

I was absolutely amazed by the sheer size of the family. And the fact they all got together and shared a meal. I understood there were a few family members missing, but it was still a lot of them. They talked about who was pregnant and which grandkids were starting school. There was so much information passed around I knew there was no possible way I would remember it all.

After the massive dinner we'd just devoured—turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and all the trimmings—everyone pitched in to clean up. Even the kids, full of energy and giggles, helped carry plates and wipe down the table. It was a level of togetherness I'd never experienced before, everyone moving in sync like cogs in a well-oiled machine. Armand and Kathy had stepped outside, wrapped in blankets, their chairs turned away from the beautiful view of their property. Instead, they faced the house, their eyes trained on the scene inside.

Curious, I paused in my task of drying the silverware and took in the view myself. The kitchen was a flurry of activity—adults chatting and laughing, kids darting in and out like fireflies. There was a warmth here that was more than just the heat from the oven or the glow from the fireplace. It was the warmth of a family, of a unit that had been built over years of shared experiences, love, and even hardship.

Armand and Kathy weren't admiring their land. They were admiring their family. I could see it now, the pride that radiated from their expressions, the way they looked at each other and then back at the family they'd built on their separate journeys of life. Somehow, those journeys had converged into one, creating this beautiful, chaotic, loving unit.

And it hit me like a punch to the gut—this wasn't my family. Not really. I was here, yes, and everyone was kind, but I was still an outsider, hovering on the edges of their world. I felt like a guest in a place I desperately wanted to call home. The kids ran around my legs, shrieking with laughter. They were all so happy and comfortable. They were content and confident because they knew they were endlessly loved and they would never want for anything. I couldn't even begin to imagine the pure joy those children felt. They got to move through life without ever having to worry about being alone.

I forced a smile, glancing up one last time at Kathy. She caught my eye and gave me a knowing smile, one that said she saw everything, understood everything.

I tried to return the smile, but it felt strained, my heart heavy with longing. If only this was all real, and it was mine, too.

Once the kitchen was finally clean and the wine glasses were topped off, everyone settled into the formal living room. Grayson and Hannah stood in front of the group, a mischievous glint in their eyes.

"Okay, everyone," Grayson announced, clapping his hands to get the attention of the room. "We've got a little surprise for the kids this year—a Thanksgiving scavenger hunt!"

The room erupted in cheers from the kids, their excitement palpable. They bounced on their toes, eyes wide with anticipation.

Hannah smiled, holding up a basket filled with small envelopes. "We've hidden clues all around the house. Each clue will lead to the next, and we've got a special Thanksgiving-themed prize at the end for the winners."

I looked around the next generation of the Bancroft family. There were a few infants, but the bulk of the kids ranged in age from two to sixteen. The teenagers were happy. They weren't grumbling, sulking, or sitting in a corner with headphones in and phones in their faces.

They were engaged. That was a miracle in itself.

The kids didn't need any more encouragement to participate in the game the oldest Bancroft on Kathy's side had put together with his wife. The kids scrambled to their feet, practically vibrating with excitement as Grayson handed out the first clues. The living room quickly descended into organized chaos as they tore through the house, searching high and low for the hidden messages. Grayson followed behind, pretending to be the stern overseer, but the twinkle in his eye betrayed his amusement.

Watching them, I couldn't help but laugh. It was pure, unbridled joy, the kind that only children could exude. And for a moment, I let myself be swept up in it, forgetting about the gnawing ache in my chest. This was what Thanksgiving was supposed to be—a celebration, a coming together of people who cared about each other, who were happy just to be in each other's presence.

And this house was the perfect spot for a scavenger hunt. It was huge, with plenty of places to hide and explore. A few of the adults, including myself because I was very curious to see the house, followed the kids.

The first clue led the children to the library, a room boasting floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a grand mahogany desk. The youngest Bancrofts were unfamiliar with the room, as it mostly served as Armand's quiet retreat. The older kids dove into the shelves, thumbing through dusty books and crisp new paperbacks I assumed belonged to Kathy. They were all in search of the next clue. I watched as they worked together, teaming up to solve riddles and decipher cryptic instructions.

Once all the clues had been gathered from the library, they were off to the music room, filled with an array of instruments. From a magnificent grand piano to an antique harp, it was a musician's paradise. Grayson had tucked the next clue into a violin case on a shelf. The kids climbed up the shelves eagerly, despite the warnings from the adults.

I felt like I was on my own scavenger hunt getting to see just a little more of the house and how the family lived.

The hunt weaved them through the mansion. Each room was an opportunity to explore their ancestral legacy. A gallery with portraits of Bancroft ancestors, the conservatory with its exotic plants and flowers, even the master suites where I saw family photos that spanned generations. It was all part of the beautiful tapestry of their lives.

I was in awe. This family was the American equivalent to royalty without the royal bloodlines. They had built their wealth in recent generations and were continuing to build more for future generations. It was incredible to see the photographic evidence of their rise to the top.

As the night wore on and the scavenger hunt ended with triumphant cheers, the families with younger kids started to leave. Most of them lived locally and those that flew in were staying in hotels even though I had heard Kathy invite them to stay at least twenty times.

The energy in the house slowly began to wind down, the laughter and chatter fading to a gentle hum. I found myself back in the kitchen, rinsing out my wine glass. The sound of running water was soothing, a small reprieve from the whirlwind of the evening. I was about to place the glass on the drying rack when I noticed Kathy standing at the kitchen sink, her back to me. She was holding something in her hands, staring down at it intently.

Curiosity piqued, I moved closer, and that was when I saw it—her ring. The diamond sparkled under the dim kitchen light, but it wasn't just the ring itself that caught my attention. It was the way Kathy was looking at it, as if it held the answers to every question she'd ever had, as if it represented something far greater than just a piece of jewelry.

"It's beautiful," I said softly, not wanting to startle her.

Kathy looked up, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, but she smiled, a tender, almost shy smile that made her look years younger. "It is, isn't it?" she murmured, her voice filled with wonder. "I wore a ring on this finger for many years, but it never made me feel like this. Silly how something like this can make an old woman feel like a girl again."

I shook my head, smiling gently. "I don't think it's silly at all. My mother would say that's true love."

For a moment, Kathy just looked at me, her gaze softening. "Your mother sounds like a wise woman. Tell me about her."

The request caught me off guard. I hadn't talked about my mother in a long time. My father couldn't talk about her—it was too painful. My friends just didn't get it. So, I chose to keep her bottled up inside me. I didn't often talk about her because it was a tender subject. But there was something in Kathy's expression that made me want to share, to open up in a way I hadn't in years.

"She's been gone a long time now," I began, my voice tinged with nostalgia. "But she was the wisest person I've ever known. She had this incredible sense of adventure, an unstoppable ache for it. She was always chasing something. She loved new places and new experiences. But she had this big heart too. She cared deeply, loved deeply. And she always made me feel like I was part of something bigger, even when it was just the three of us."

Kathy listened intently, her eyes never leaving mine. When I finished, she reached out and pulled me into a hug, her arms warm and comforting. "Then she must be looking down feeling happy for you," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "Because marrying into this family is definitely an adventure. You will never lack for an ear to bend or a shoulder to cry on. When Zayn drives you up the wall, you'll have lots of women you can call and complain to, and they will all understand. They'll empathize, sympathize, and then give you some sage advice. This family knows how to stick together. I'm so proud of all of them for welcoming new people and embracing them. That doesn't ever stop. You are one of us now."

The hug felt like a balm to my soul. But at the same time, my stomach twisted with anxiety. Because this wasn't my family. And as much as I wanted to belong here, to be a part of this incredible unit, I couldn't shake the knowledge that I never truly would.

And I hated lying to this very kind woman. It killed me. It made me feel sick.

I pulled back from the hug, forcing a smile. "Yeah, it sure is," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "An adventure, for sure."

Kathy looked at me, her eyes searching mine for a moment before she nodded, as if she understood what I was trying to say without words. She squeezed my hand gently before letting go, giving me a reassuring smile.

"Thank you, Kathy. For inviting me into your home and making me feel welcome. You have a beautiful home, but more importantly, you have a beautiful family."

"I know," she said with a bright smile. "Thank you. You are welcome back any time. No invitation needed."

I felt a heavy weight settle in my chest as I walked out of the kitchen. I wasn't sure how to process everything that had happened tonight. I gave myself a reminder that I was still on the outside looking in.

I found Zayn in the living room, saying his goodbyes to the remaining family members. He smiled when he saw me, his eyes lighting up in that way that always made my heart skip a beat. But tonight, instead of filling me with warmth, it only made the knot in my stomach tighten.

"Ready to go?" he asked, slipping an arm around my waist.

I nodded, forcing another smile. "Yeah, let's head out."